Bullet to the Heart
by soupfrenzy
Summary: Modern AU in which things just aren't as easy or straight forward as one would hope. Dennee has skipped town yet again, but Kahlan just has a bad feeling about it. Enter Cara, a private eye aching for a decent case, and the chance to get closer to the beautiful brunette that hired her. Unfortunately for Cara, this case won't be a walk in the park.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This will be a C/K fic, but for the first two chapters the spotlight will be on different characters. Cara is not a Mord'Sith, and Kahlan is not a Confessor.

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Prologue

1 week ago

Her hands trembled as she fought to maintain her resolve, as she removed all her personal belongings. Watch, earrings, Swiss army knife, cell phone. All of it. Anything with her fingerprints or what could be recognized as hers had to be wiped down and packed up. She wasn't to exist, not until she was told to, not until it was safe. Dennee didn't live past this moment. Six months, six damn months she had spent hiding in plain sight, under the nose of a man she was told was extremely dangerous. A man who was deceiving her country and killing her fellow citizens without ever pulling a trigger. She was told he was a monster, a mastermind, a brain that needed to be detached from the body, and that she was to steal from him… and stole she did. Six months she wormed, lied, smiled and had lunch with people who willingly or unknowingly worked for a very bad man. This was how she was going to earn her wings.

But why? That question rolled through her mind every day as she sat at the desk that was hers in her fake life. As she stood in front of the hotel bathroom mirror, she still had no answer. Dennee didn't know if she'd ever have an answer. She didn't know what this guy did, she didn't know what was in all those files she downloaded, and she didn't even know why she had been chosen to do this. She was good enough at what she did, but she knew she wasn't the best. She pushed buttons, typed words, hacked, cracked and decoded. She was smart but there had to be others, others who were smarter, trickier, others who wouldn't shake in fear. Dennee gripped the sink's edge 'til her knuckles turned white as she stood in the cold hotel bathroom, stripped to her barest.

She had been trained for this, she had been taught how to act and talk and dress the part, but all of that meant shit if you couldn't control your nerves. It had made her sick at first and then she settled into the job, taking up a daily routine. The routine was key, she was told over and over. Be normal, blend in, be a nobody. Get to work, grab coffee, say hello, check messages, open Excel, multi-task, enter data in one window, hunt in another. Back and forth she had trained herself to the routine. Get faster, type faster, break in faster, hack the code faster, but don't get caught. There were so many numbers that Dennee couldn't even decipher it as code, but she began to recognize it. 3 came before 6 which came after 9. Over and over, until she could be in and out of a locked file in three minutes flat. It was normal for five months and twenty seven days, playing her code game every day. Break in, back out, and break back in.

And then she got the call.

It was time. She had to continue to pretend however, just this one last time for as long as it took. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do. It was all right there in front of her, access at her fingertips, all she had to do was type and click and steal away with secrets that weren't hers. Time to play her game one last time, this one last time for everything she was worth. For the first time, Dennee's hand shook as she hit enter.

That was an hour ago.

Dennee picked up the pair of scissors as she stared herself down in the mirror. A long, blonde lock fell silently into the sink, another followed, and another. Dennee had to disappear, run away and keep nothing that was hers. She had been someone else for six months and now it was time to change again, this time to someone who didn't wear skirts to work or have long blonde hair. The cut would do. It would do well enough that anyone who might have known her once wouldn't recognize her at first glance. Dennee ran her fingers through the short strands, to shake away loose hair, turned off the light and left the bathroom. Idly she took the clothes left for her from the closet and laid them on the bed. The clock flashed, it was 12:37. She should be getting back from lunch in twenty three minutes but instead Dennee was sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, hands on her bare knees, breathing in the silence of her freedom and condemnation.

Money, safety, heroism, Dennee took it all but never stopped to think of what she had to give up in return for it. This moment she was to leave it all behind, but what was all of it? The last six months had been a fucking lie, but it was her life. For half a year, it was her life and now she was supposed to forget it all like it never happened, like she had never made friends she was now betraying, and like she wasn't stealing from a man who could kill her by making a phone call. Dennee's fingers went numb at the thought and she struggled to button up the black top left for her. What if he found out?

She chanced a glance back over to the clock. 12:45. Dennee wondered how long it would take someone to notice her absence. Perhaps they would over look the first ten minutes, but after that? Would they call her cell phone which was already cut off? Maybe try calling her apartment - which had been empty for three days now, all of her things taken to "somewhere safe". Would they look for her? How long will it take them to notice something is out of place? How far would he go to get back what she had taken? What was it worth to him?

Dennee tied off the issued black high tops in a quick knot. She couldn't let her mind get carried away with too much thinking. She was going to psych herself out before she completed her job. It was time to go. Money, heroism, money, heroism. Dennee repeated the mantra in her head as she grabbed the light weight, black jacket and shoved her arms into the sleeves. Dennee didn't know why she checked the pockets, habit she guessed, she found nothing. Of course there was nothing, she wasn't supposed to have anything on her… well that wasn't true. There was one thing, the small blue flashdrive that sat on the bedside table. Dennee grabbed it and left the room, everything else stayed, her old clothes, her personal items, someone would pick them up later.

Fumbling with the tiny brick of stolen goods in her pocket, Dennee walked briskly through the hotel lobby and out the revolving door. A cool breeze hit her face as she stepped into the sunlight and it was the best thing that had happened all day. It was suddenly a sensory overload, a rush of light and noise shaking Dennee from any thought that might be plaguing her. She stood still, her mind blank and her body frozen, frozen save for her fingers that grazed over a billion dollars worth of trouble in her pant pocket. Trouble that had some place to be other than with her. Dennee's nostrils flared as she took a deep stinging breath of cold air and pushed her legs forward. Take a cab. Dennee remembered the odd and blunt little notes always left for her. Sometimes she wasn't sure if her employers were women of few words or just had too little time to give detailed instructions. Lucky for Dennee the hotel was popular amongst tourists and the flow of taxicabs was abundant. What she wasn't told was which one. Dennee wondered if it would be like in the movies, where a cab would zip out of nowhere driven by someone who was involved in the plot and whisk her back to the secret base. That didn't seem to be happening however; all the cabbies sat waiting for a fare, none of them seeming to take any special interest in her. Any one seemed just as good as another, but what to do after she got in? Dennee approached one of the sitting taxis when she heard a voice over shoulder.

"Going uptown?" Dennee knew that voice and who it belonged to. A tall woman in her middle forties with honey colored hair who unsurprisingly wore sunglasses and a crisp white suit, the type synonymous with ball busting, stood just behind her left shoulder. She carried a briefcase of glossy leather today, so much different than the small clutch Dennee was used to seeing. Dennee nodded her response to the woman she had come to know so well over the past year and opened the cab door. The Confessor slid in first.

"After you, Lorna," Dennee sighed. Yes, she had grown to know Lorna quite well in her short time conditioning for this job. Handler was generally the term Dennee remembered hearing from movies and TV shows about spies and secret agents. Lorna insisted that all the Confessors called each other sister. Dennee thought "sister" made it sound like a cult, then again the Confessors could be considered one. They recruited those they thought had promise the same way the CIA might do, plucking fledglings straight out of college with little detail given. Dennee had been with them for near two years, at first just doing small time work, hacking databases and setting up dummy files for the field workers. This was her first solo job, her first job period.

Before Dennee could buckle her seatbelt the cab was pulling away as the Lorna leaned forward to snap out directions through the small window in the Plexiglas wall separating the cabbie from his passengers. "The White Building at 37th and Bracken. Oh, and don't bother trying to fight the traffic, we're not in a hurry."

The cab driver's accent was heavy, "That's all the way up town, midday traffic is heavy."

"That's fine, the fare will be taken care of." The driver seemed satisfied with this answer and turned back around as the Confessor slid the small plastic partition closed and turned her attention to Dennee, who was too focused on her deep breathing then the Confessor sitting next to her.

"You can relax now, Dennee, the hard part is over. Take a deep breath. You've done a good job and a great service to your country and its citizens."

"That sounded rehearsed," Dennee said as she stared out the window watching the faceless people zip past on the way to their lives.

The Confessor smiled. "It's more memorized, you don't know how many times I've had to say that to girls who look like they'd rather jump out of the cab than head to its destination. So I commend you, it's nice to see you've kept some composition. Most of the first timers I'm sent to pick up burst into tears."

Dennee turned to Lorna and gave her a hard look, one that she had been working on while at her fake job where it was important to look as unamused as possible. "If you all hadn't stressed how important it was to get a grip, I'd bawl my eyes out." At that the confessor's face screwed up into a half sympathetic smile. "It's not funny."

"I know. I felt the same way after my first, like death trying to rise anew. I spent three years posing as an assistant to a senator who was funding torture with tax payer money. I didn't speak for a week after I was out." Lorna spoke all too carefree, and it wasn't making Dennee feel any better about the situation.

"And after that?"

"After?"

"Yeah, after. Did they plug you into machines or drug you up or what? What happened after your cab ride? I'm just trying to figure out what's going to happen to me. No one ever told me what happens after."

Lorna leaned back, relaxing further. "This is my after. I died eleven years ago and the only time I see the outside world is when I get to come pick up girl scouts like you. They burnt my apartment three weeks before the end, planted a pharmacy's cache of antidepressants in the rubble and in my work desk, and then two days after my alias had been released to the press, "Colby Matthers" drove her car off a bridge leaving only a scribbled note of apology for what she was privy to."

"Jesus." Dennee's shock prevented her from saying more.

"Oh don't worry, you're job wasn't so high profile. The whole damn country saw my face on TV during a national scandal; you only have to worry about two hundred or so passersby in an office. You'll get off easy."

"And what's 'easy'?"

"Fourteen months, give or take, and they'll probably have you at a desk, paper clipping reports together."

"Fourteen months?" Dennee pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and bit down hard. The worried habit didn't go unnoticed by the confessor.

"Hey now, consider yourself lucky, there are some sisters were the only breeze they've felt in years is that of a desk fan. You'll still get some use out of your sunglasses. A year isn't so bad, it'll give you time to grow your hair back out." Lorna tickled the side of Dennee's head, mussing the short strands. "You're lucky you only had to cut it, I can't begin to tell you hot sweaty your head gets under a wig."

Dennee turned away again to stare out the windshield of the cab which wasn't moving, they had hit the midday traffic, a sea of red break lights ahead of them. "So that's it then? I go and get debriefed or whatever it is you guys call the torturous series of follow up questions and get handcuffed to a desk chair?"

"Yes and no." Lorna placed her briefcase on her lap and flipped it open. Inside was a small netbook and anything else you'd normally find in a briefcase. Dennee was a little disappointed there wasn't a gun or some other sort of high tech gadget. Nothing too odd except for a single blank postcard. The postcard of course is what caught Dennee's attention.

"Who's the postcard from?"

"From you." Lorna handed it over and clicked a ball point pen offering it up to Dennee who took it absent mindedly.

"From me?" Dennee flipped the card over. "Brazil," she asked with a little too much enthusiasm, "you're sending me to Brazil?"

Lorna sighed, "No, Dennee, that's to throw any loose ends off your trail."

Dennee's face sunk, "Loose ends? I-I don't think I catch your meaning."

Lorna paused and took a deep breath. Dennee guessed this next part wasn't memorized. "Your sister, Dennee. Out of all the jobs that I've seen done, family is usually the greatest muddier of the waters. You can't just vanish for months without her wondering where you are. She'll look for you, and by doing that she'll endanger herself and all that you've just gone through."

"So, what- what are you trying to tell me here? That I can't see or talk to my sister for a year and then some because she might ruin your precious mission?" The blood rushed to Dennee's face, the heat making her volatile.

"Yes, that and she might endanger herself."

It was the 'yes' that pushed Dennee over.

"Well, fuck you! I never agreed to that." Dennee crumpled the postcard and tossed it at Lorna's feet. The Confessor closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh; things had gone too smoothly for normal.

"Dennee, I'm not saying it's going to be forever, it may not even be for the whole fourteen months but it'll be for some time, at least for as long as we need you to stay indoors with us." Lorna pulled out another blank postcard and offered it to the angry blonde sitting next to her. This one too was taken and crumpled.

And another.

And another, until, "God dammit, Dennee, stop acting like a child. This is your job and you may not think you agreed to this but it's the damn fine print. Every job has its consequences, just be lucky this is it for you. I know dozens of women who would love to be in your shoes right rather than where they're stuck."

"Yeah, well what if I want out, huh?" Dennee's indignant tone grated on Lorna's nerves. "What if I just want to get out of the car and be done with it?" When Dennee reached for the handle Lorna shot across the seat grabbing her by the wrist, wrestling her back from the door handle.

"You don't want to do that, Dennee."

Dennee struggled to get her arm back and to shove Lorna away. "Like hell I don't. Let go of me." Dennee shoved again, this time hard causing Lorna to grunt when she hit the opposite door. The confessor grabbed for the collar of Dennee's jacket and Dennee kicked out at Lorna's leg.

At this point the driver couldn't ignore the two women fighting in his back seat. He had seen arguments before, he had even handled couples breaking up before, but these two pushed and grabbed at each other like a couple of seven year olds on a long car trip. He pounded on the Plexiglas divider.

"Hey, if you two do not stop you will have to leave my cab. Do you understand me? You can get out right now." Dennee stopped struggling when the cabbie interrupted, breathing in heavy, short pants she looked pointedly at Lorna who looked heatedly back at her.

"Dennee, if you leave this cab then that's it. You'll be on your own, and on your own you'll have to deal with whatever and whoever finds you. If you walk away we can't protect you, or your sister. It's your choice, walk away from the safety we're offering you or stay here and in a handful of months it'll all be over." Lorna calmly let go of Dennee and scooted back to her seat. Dennee looked stunned as the information sunk in.

"She's all I got, Lorna. I'm all she's got, I can't just leave her. You don't understand, when our parents." Dennee trailed off unable to finish, unwanting to finish. She was sure Lorna knew already anyhow.

"I know, I know. I'm not asking you to leave her, you're going to be right here the whole time, and she's staying were she is, you just can't talk to or see her for a while. I promise you, when this is done, when it's all done I will personally drive you to wherever you want to meet her. Hell, I'll even pay for lunch." Lorna reached for her briefcase which had been discarded to the floor when the tussle began. A fresh postcard was taken out.

"How many of those things to you have?"

Lorna snorted. "Enough for someone like you," she said and handed over the card and pen. "Now while you fill that out I would like to take a look at the info you stole away with."

Dennee took the Brazilian postcard and stared at the blank spot. How was she supposed to say goodbye? To say, 'don't look for me for a few months' while trying to be tactful? She guessed they had chosen the right person; this wouldn't be the first time Dennee randomly took off without warning. Shit, it wouldn't even be the second. Guess she had a habit of doing stupid things like that.

"Dennee?" Lorna gave her a nudge.

"What?"

"The files? May I have them?"

Dennee stared wide eyed for the briefest second before realizing what Lorna had asked for. "Oh, sorry." She thrust her hips up to better reach into her pant pocket. "Here," and all the trouble in the world was handed over. Lorna popped the flashdrive into the USB port. It had only one file and the name made her smirk.

"Book of Secrets?"

"Had to name it something."

Loran 'hmm'ed her agreement and double clicked the file. An explosion of unintelligible numbers and letters filled her screen, rolling and rising like a sea of coded nonsense.

"What the fuck is this?" Lorna growled her frustration. This was bullshit, absolute bullshit. No, it was worse than bullshit.

"It's coded. I have no clue what any of it means, but that's what was locked up the tightest. For all I know it could be dry cleaning receipts. He wears some pretty fancy suits."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Can you make any sense of this?" The confessor pinched the bridge of her nose before turning the netbook to face Dennee.

Dennee looked as the wash of gibberish across the screen. Pointing at where a section read '936D59' Dennee said, "That there, it's reoccurring, I came across it a lot. It looks like a hex code."

"Hex code? Please explain, you're talking to someone who can double click things and send email."

"It's basically computer language."

"Like a bunch of 0s and 1s?"

"That's a binary code, this is more like a hexadecimal, which is numbers and letters. This looks like that, but far more complex."

"So you've never seen this before?"

"Before six months ago, no. But look here," Dennee pointed at another bit of coding, "this repeats too. Here, here, and here. But it's in no sort of organization or repeating pattern. This could be anything from a program to a Word document, for all I know."

Lorna was slack jawed. Someone had secrets so big that a whole new language had been created to hide it. "Well, Dennee, you'd better write that postcard quick because I have a feeling you're going right back behind a desk for a good long while."

Dennee flopped back on the cab seat and stared up the roof of the cab. "Fuck my life and fuck that Rahl guy and his stupid fancy suits."

Dennee felt something cold and metal touch her finger, Lorna tapped her with the pen. "I'm serious, Dennee. I think you found something big here, far bigger than what we may have thought. This is going to take time. The sooner you write that card the sooner you can start working on this."

Sighing, Dennee took the pen. This isn't what she wanted to be doing. Going to college and becoming a code monkey wasn't supposed to lead you into corporate spying and ditching your sister with a shity 99 cent postcard. Dennee clicked the pen open and closed a few times while she thought, lowering it when she felt she had something

Dear Ka-

No, she'd never buy that, if Dennee wrote that it'd be a sure sign of something being up.

Hey Sis,

Guess where I am?

I'll give you a hint, it's not my apartment.

Don't get pissed and I love you.

Den

Dennee rested the postcard on her lap and retracted the pen. Looking out the passenger window she knew it was going to be a long couple of months.


	2. Chapter 2

Darken Rahl sat 67 floors above the rabble crusted streets, above the nameless, faceless drones who clacked away on their keyboards, above the mangers who took extended lunch breaks and above the vice presidents who didn't know marketing strategy from the asses that they sat on. Darken Rahl sat in a chair in front of an over turned desk and a carpet of papers. His dear, naive secretary, Garen, had stuck her head in after hearing the thundering crash of the heavy mahogany desk. One look at her 's face had answered all her questions – Darken was prone to his temper flares and she wasn't about to get caught up in another. He had sat in his chair, hands clasped before him, unmoving as she silently ducked back out of the room.

Darken sat not giving a damn about his over turned desk or the tingling in his arms from the stress of lifting it on end. No, at this moment there was only one thing on his mind, one person, the one who took something that wasn't theirs, something very, very important. Rahl meticulously smoothed down his eyebrow as his mind worked over all the details that had been acquired in the past week. Security had been breached, all of it, every last fucking bit. They had gotten into his building, used his computers, and stole his files. Valuable files, the likes of which were more than incriminating, they were a death sentence.

Rahl had enemies. Anyone with the smallest iota of power and wealth was not without at least one nemesis, Darken had at least twelve – from the last time he counted of course – and two of those could be capable of such corporate sabotage, no, not just capable, masterful. The other ten, well, the best they could manage is crashing a party and vomiting in one of Darken's three pools – mostly harmless at best. But those other two, Darken had never met anyone as corrupted, vile, or more willing to destroy another life for personal gain – outside of himself of course.

Darken raced through his thoughts, it had to be one of those two, an inside job, no one could have hacked into his system from outside the building. So which one was sly enough to plant a mole in his building? Perhaps the blonde, Nicci. Darken had burned her years ago on a buyout deal. She never forgave him. From then on screwing each other over had become a sort of game, but this was going too far. It would be just like her to do this, the witch, she never did know when to stop. Then again there was Jagang. Fucking foreigners and their damn oil money. What Jagang couldn't outright buy he stole and Darken for years had told him he wasn't for sale. He wouldn't whore himself or the company his family had built from the ground up (and on the backs of others) to some self proclaimed emperor who was looking for nothing more than a foothold to climb up with.

Darken's blood began to heat up again. Just the thought of being played a fool by some holier than thou whore in expensive silk or an unmuzzled goat fucker…. Rahl caught himself before his fits got the better of him again. His nails dug into the arms of his chair until his fingertips burned white. He was getting ahead of himself, there was no real way to pin either of those two to the deed, at least not yet. This had rapidly become a war, whether Nicci or Jagang knew it or not. One of them had fired a well timed first shot, but it was Darken who had the bigger guns. It had been a mere handful of days since the incident, just enough time for the poor pawn who had been sent to hide, but that didn't mean Darken had sat idly by waiting for their next move. No, he was already hunting them. He had compiled a list of employees. Information specialist, new hires, temps, former employees that may harbor a grudge. The list was long, but Darken Rahl was a master of information, he was well trained by the Rahls before him to not cut corners or over look details. D'Hara Corp wasn't what it was because people took the easy way out. There were 127 names on Darken's list and amongst them was the name of the person who had wronged him. He would find them. This was a game of force and will and he had yet to throw down his best card.

Darken Rahl got up from his chair and casually walked around his fallen desk, avoiding any of the spilled paper, to his speaker phone which lay haphazardly on the floor. He fiddled with some change he had in his pocket as he nudged away a small pile of paper clips and toed the red speaker button that would connect him to sweet Garen just outside. There was a dull hum and a voice.

"Yes, Mr. Rahl?"

"Garen, my dear, would you have Denna sent up? Tell her it's urgent."

"Right away, Mr. Rahl." Darken toed to button again to cut the conversation.

Exactly three minutes later a dark silhouette appeared outside the frosted glass doors of Darken Rahl's office. Denna made her usual domineering and startling appearance. Swathed head to toe in a tight, militaristic black suit. From the high collar of her jacket to her heeled boots, not an inch of skin was displayed. Denna dressed like a shadow out of the night, making her blonde hair shockingly bright and her normally understated blue eyes look like the coldest ice. The only thing colder than her stare was her smile, or lack thereof.

From where he stood at the window, Darken looked her up and down and smirked. "You know the temperature drops ten degrees whenever you come in here."

Denna just hummed and without missing a beat replied, "Then I suggest you keep a sweater on hand. You called on me, Darken?"

Ah, how Darken loved to hear his name fall from those pink lips, sharpened so by Denna's accent. "Yes my love, it's about the incident. I have a list."

"A list? Are we going shopping?"

Darken hummed his rarely shown amusement. "In a way. It a list of all those who I think _might_ be responsible, and might be connected to a figure or two who don't like me very much." Darken circled Denna, pressing up behind her and running his thick finger down the back of her neck and slipping it under her collar.

He could feel muscles relaxing under his touch as Denna settled on her feet, taking up a military stance. Such a controlled and beautiful force of habit. Darken had recruited her from some back water, Slavic corner of Europe, the type of country that has more fanatical militia than farmers. She was one of the autocrat's personal soldiers, one that came with the best training for a hefty price. He remembered that day, it was like being a little boy and going to the pound to find a puppy. He had looked them all over, most had promise but only one was that dark force of nature that called to him. Young and beautiful with eyes that whispered a veiled wrath; Denna was a prize, a gem amongst pebbles. Blood thirsty, loyal, sensual, and ruthless. Darken's beloved pitbull.

"Would you like me to check on the IT staff again?" Those icy blue eyes went unblinking. "I could have them all strip searched this time? It could prove amusing."

"No, no, I don't think any of those computer monkeys were the ones. They all seemed too clueless and preoccupied with their Japanese fantasy women to switch out a broken keyboard much less steal something within their own reach. No, Denna, I think this little plot had to have been commanded by someone with more balls then brains, which is why I'm starting to suspect one of my dear, close rivals to be involved." Darken squeezed down on her shoulders – he loved the way her flesh and muscle pulled under his fingers.

Denna remained unmoving, looking forward out of Darken's floor to ceiling office windows. "As have I, which is why I took the initiative to check up on them."

Darken's interest was piqued. "Have you now? Your own little agenda, how resourceful of you, my pet," his words slithered their way into Denna's ear, his hot breath slipping down her neck. "How are my _dear_ friends these days?"

Denna glanced down at Darken's fingers that had slipped over her shoulder and were rubbing small circles on her collar bone. She tried to remember the last time his hands were on her at all. Perhaps it had been too long since she had pleased Darken intimately, his mind might be eased if she could remember to perform her other duties regularly.

Denna erased all thoughts not pertaining to topic at hand. "Jagang has been missing for a few weeks. There has been an uprising in his country, although I'm sure he isn't dead, we would have heard something. He must have himself tucked safely away in a bunker or bordering country. I would have to say the only thing on his mind lately -besides his money - is dodging bullets."

Darken's scoffed, "That's the old world for you. Wild dogs don't stay chained for long; Jagang has yet to learn that lesson. And what about our sweet sister in crime, Nicci?" Venom dripped off the woman's name.

"Vacationing in the south of France." And that was true. Nicci had been quiet for months. It was unusual for her to keep her nose out of Darken's business for so long, but when Denna checked up on her, Nicci seemed to be genuinely at ease. Of course if Nicci had known Denna was tracking her down things wouldn't have been so quiet. And of course nothing is ever as it seemed with that woman.

Darken hummed. "No doubt fucking her way through the aristocracy. Picking up funding in the form dirty Euros left on the night stand." Darken felt Denna snicker at that remark. For having never truly met one another, there was no love lost between the two women. One was a whore, the other a bitch, respectably. "Either which way I still suspect them of something, so keep tabs on them. Especially Nicci, that little cunt has to have something planned for me. It's been far too long since we've had a run in, not even a threatening phone call. I'm honestly starting to feel a bit unloved."

"Enemies closer as usual, Darken."

"As usual, my pet."

Denna turned to look at Rahl over her shoulder. "And your list?" Rahl took a small step away from Denna, but kept his grip on her shoulders, pinning her in place not allowing her to flee his request. Not that she would or have a choice.

"The list…" Darken looked about the mess of papers on his floor, trapped under foot and under his over turned desk. "…is here."

Denna took her turn to look at the mess of papers spread across the office floor and mentally sighed. "All of this?"

Darken squeezed Denna's shoulders, digging his fingers under her collar bone, an act of pain, a touch of pleasure. The dull aching pressure forced a hiss from her lips, and her eyes rolled back as Darken's thumbs pushed into the base of her neck. She relished her master's touch, knowing that he was pleased with her by giving her the loving pain.

"Don't make me doubt, or heaven forbid, regret, leaving this in your capable hands, Denna. I want you to find everything."

"But with so many names… how could I possibly get through all of them? What if I don't find the right one in time? It needs to be paired down." Denna's question was simple enough, honest, but Darken didn't want to hear questions, he wanted answers. And quick ones at that. Darken pulled his hands away from Denna, repulsion and disgust, bile, all felt heavy in the air as he turned away. His unpredictable temper burst through its weak barrier, and face twisted into anger once again.

"You're not here to question my methods," Darken growled. Picking up a sheet of paper from the ground he thrust it into Denna's face. "Here, here is a name," Darken pointed, "and here another. Perhaps this is the one who's done it. Or this one, or this one here is allied with a name over there." Rahl's voice pitched and ground out a snarl, "I've already done the hard part, Denna. All you need to do squeeze the information free from whatever whelp it was that stole my program." Rahl flung the paper back to the floor carelessly as his gaze remained firmly on Denna.

"I will… do as you wish, Mr. Rahl." Denna knew that is what Darken wanted to hear, that which would calm him. And it did. His hands returned to her shoulder and she felt him release a sigh.

"Good, Denna, good. Make some house calls to the ones I've highlighted, they're the top priority." Darken turned suddenly and marched towards the door, "Come, Denna." Darken loved the way she followed so faithfully.

Garen sat at her desk outside Mr. Rahl's office, straining, yet damning herself for listening in on their conversation. When the door was pulled open, she paused nervously as Mr. Rahl and Denna passed by her to the elevator, there was just something unnerving about the two of them together. Garen knew what Denna did – or at least she though she knew what Denna did – or maybe it was the look on the blonde woman's face and in her eyes that made Garen think she knew who and what Denna was. Garen was certain it wasn't good. She scared Garen, fully intimidated her with those soulless blue eyes and her creepy accent and all that black. She was certain Mr. Rahl had corporate spies, but the blonde was something more. Garen followed Denna with her eyes, watching the play of her muscles in all that tight black, she was a beautiful woman no doubt about that. Ralh most certainly got his use out of her in one way or another, but she didn't have the body of a soft and pampered woman. No, no woman who sat behind a desk and filed papers all day had legs that looked like they could crush a man's skull.

"Garen." Darken's voice snapped like a whip across the room capturing Garen and pulling her attention to him. "Call up to the helicopter and tell them I'm on my way."

"Ye-yes, Mr. Rahl. Right away." Garen picked up the receiver and dialed to the helipad. She hoped they picked up because the elevator door dinged and opened, and Rahl stepped in to be ushered to the roof. He hated waiting and in the mood he had been in she pitied anyone who took a second longer than he pleased.

Denna's blue eyes burned into Garen as she and Rahl were swallowed up by the double doors. The secretary's blood ran cold at seeing that hard as diamonds stare punching through her, and she wondered if Denna could hear her thoughts about her.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open smoothly. Outside of the small lobby that housed only the elevator a helicopter slowly came to life, its sluggish rotors casting lumbering shadows across the helipad as they built up speed. Upon exiting the protection of the lobby, Denna and Darken were assaulted by the heavy whine and an engine and the progressive thump of rotor blades. Denna shielded her eyes from the sting of loose dirt being picked up and thrown around. Darken slipped on a pair of dark glasses and ducked his head as he walked towards the helicopter pilot, he shouted something towards him that Denna couldn't make out. Denna made to follow Darken to the helicopter, mistakenly thinking she was to accompany him, but she was stopped by a firm hold on her shoulder.

"I'm going to the off site servers, I need to speak to Egremont about tightening the physical security there just in case our little sneak tries to hit us again. Also, should they get that file open. I want to be ready to get a trace on it." Darken glances back at the helicopter quickly. "Denna, you're going to stay here and finish what I started."

"But sir-" before Denna could get another word out, Darken's fingers bit into her shoulder.

"The list, Denna. I want results." There was no denying the look in Darken's eyes, it was frighteningly sincere. Men who were on the edge of a cliff contemplating the fall shared the same look. There was only one option for Denna, and it was to give Darken what he wanted. Rahl released his grip on the blonde's shoulder and turned to enter the helicopter. That was it then, it was all in Denna's hands now, her so-called capable hands.

"Yes, Darken." But Denna's reply was swallowed up the high pitched whine as the helicopter began to lift off the roof. Denna took several safe steps back and shielded her eyes, watching her boss abandon her to a wild goose chase. She was sure that he wouldn't be in contact with her until she found something significant, and his definition of significant was far exaggerated than any normal person's. Dread wasn't a common feeling for Denna. In fact, she wasn't sure if she'd ever felt it before, but if she had to describe the small seed of heat and pain blossoming in her chest, dread would have to be the closest word.

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**A/N: **Okay, I promise at least Cara in the next chapter, which is currently being written. I'm juggling this story and another at the moment so I can't say when ch. 3 will be done but I'll try not to take forever. Thanks for being cool.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So this took forever, and I apologize for that. There are a bunch of reasons why but mostly I didn't like the way the first draft of this chapter turned out so I rewrote it.**

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Cara sat patiently across the street from the site of her latest job. It was a mechanic's shop, Jim's Auto. Real fucking original. Cara hated these jobs, insurance scams, it was a crap shoot and most of the time there was nothing to be found. Usually people weren't stupid enough to try anything dumb like insurance fraud, mostly because they've watched too much True Crime TV and they've seen the outcome. There's CSI and then there's reality. The reality is insurance companies love to hire investigators to handle this sort of thing, to dig into the dirt and get their hands dirty. Cara was one of these. A run of the mill Private Investigator. She drives a decent car, and takes jobs from paranoid house wives and cut rate insurance companies. The house wives she could deal with, the insurance companies... well, there were several problems when they came knocking. The biggest problem with cut rate companies is that they are hounds for money. They sure as hell won't just roll over and take it up the ass if they have the slightest inkling that they might be getting played. That's why Cara was sitting outside in the hot sun drinking a weak iced tea that was mostly watered down at this point... well, that and her client had deposited a considerable payment up front. Monetary incentive was a pretty big player. Maybe there was one good thing about jobs like this one, if insurers thought they might lose big, they'll pay big.

Apparently Jimmy boy was being accused of scamming his insurance company for some stolen vehicles. Fairly standard claim, really. It happens from time to time, especially when your yard security was pretty lax. By the looks of it, Cara thought Jim's idea of security was pretty fucking lax. Chain link fence about seven, maybe eight feet high and 40 years old, brand new chain and a Masterlock though - probably to replace the one that was cut the night of the theft, two security cameras that she could see. It was believable; some punk chopper looking for an easy target picks an auto shop with no security and a few nice cars in the back. Cara had seen a few cases like it before, she knew what to call.

If JIm was worth his lugnuts, then he should have known better and it was as simple as that. The auto shop was located in a suburban area, a little more on the upscale side of things, close to a freeway and away from residential blocks. All the businesses around the area looked like they closed up around 6pm, restaurants at 11. No one would have been around to witness anything. Jim was lazy and didn't take any of that into consideration. Cara could lecture all day on the importance of tighter security. It was almost the same damn thing every time. Doors can be kicked in or pried open, and chains can be cut. A good, industrial pair of bolt cutters ran about a hundred and fifty bucks at a hardware store, not cheap but if you're going into the auto theft business it's nice to invest in good tools. The two cars that were stolen from the yard were on all the top ten most stolen lists, which meant they were five to twelve years old; probably have maybe 80,000 to 110,000 miles on them. Blue booked those cars might go for a couple thousand in decent shape, but selling a stolen car is one of the stupidest ideas one could come up with. Definitely they were stripped for their parts. Stripped, those cars were easily worth double, just about the same as what Cara was paid to sit around and stare through the big glass windows of Jim's Auto. People say crime doesn't pay, it does, it's just more work.

Taking a swig of the watery tea, Cara counted off her days. Today was day four, day four of nothing. Nothing but sitting, waiting, and eating. Cara had sampled all the delis and cafes in the immediate area, the one she was at now she liked the best, they had a killer strawberry and Nutella crepe and a great view of the auto shop. She could see right inside; Jim was at the front counter, rubbing the frustration out of his temples. He had a problem with stress, Cara had learned this just from looking at him for four days. She had gotten to know Jim pretty well. He's got a wife of twenty three years, a son in high school, two dogs, three employees: Rick, Jesse, and Eduardo "Eddy". The shop pulled in good money, under $800,000 a year, but enough to provide some benefits to the employees and set up a college fund for Jimmy junior. Jim senior liked to collect car emblems and hood ornaments, several of which were displayed in the shop; he also enjoyed enabling his wife's addiction to antique birdhouses. The latest he had purchased for her was something called a purple martin house – Cara had to Google what exactly a purple martin was – and Jim had left a very positive review for the EBay seller. Yes, a criminal fucking master mind Jim was. He oozed middle class suburbanite through his pores. There was nothing about him that set off a red flag, except that he should be institutionalized for his taste in lawn ornaments. Cara was just about convinced that this investigation was as good as wrapped up. Cara pressed the cool, wet glass of her tea to her cheek. The heat was damn near blistering making Cara run a hand through her blonde hair to cool her scalp desperately waiting for the sun to sink below the hills and allow things to cool down a little. Flipping her wrist up to her eyes, Cara took a quick glance at her watch. Almost five, thank god too because she was sick of sitting and melting, and having to fight off the annoying waitress who kept bugging her about ordering dinner. Although, she would probably get something to go seeing as the day wasn't quite over yet. At half past, Jim would leave the shop which meant Cara would get into her car and follow him to wherever it was he went after work. The bank was usually the first stop, one time they made a quick detour to pick up some carrots and a six pack at the grocery store, the most exciting night was fantasy baseball night. Jesus nothing was more boring than a bunch of middle aged men discussing RBIs and batting stats.

Five o'clock finally struck and Cara's attention turned elsewhere. Okay, yeah she had a job to do, and that job was to watch the shit out of boring Jim the auto mechanic but it never hurt to rest your eyes. Across the street was a small business building, generally unremarkable in all of its beige glory, except for the one office door that was painted in the most hideous sky blue with a garish, bright, smiling sun on it. The door was obnoxious, so much so that Cara scoffed every time she looked at it. Seriously, an elephant stampeding down the street on fire was more subtle. It was a pediatrician's office, and Cara - who had no desire to have children, ever, and generally was disgusted by the sticky fingered booger munchers - took great interest in watching the door open and close every time a kindergarten germ factory exited. She wasn't a pervert, God no, and the moms were mostly frumpy and looked like the type of house wives that left distressed messages on her office phone asking for her investigative services. No, no, it wasn't about the bratty kids or the weary mothers, it was all about her. She was the doctor. The tall, milky skinned, dark chocolate haired, brightly smiling doctor that walked every one of her tiny, runny nosed patients out the door and happily waved goodbye to them. And it wasn't just a normal goodbye wave, she bent down to child height and wiggled all of her fingers like some real life Disney Princess. It was obnoxiously cute, just like the dumb sun painted on her office door.

In reality Cara should all out be annoyed by someone so seemingly endearing and perfect. She wouldn't get along with a woman who loved children so much that we wanted to heal all their booboos and cover them in Hello Kitty Band-Aids. Cara shouldn't wonder if the cute doctor owned several pairs of pink panties, or wore an apron when she cooked breakfast, or how she liked her eggs, or what her laugh sounded like, or what shampoo she used. This was all just some fantasy she delved into because she was so damn bored with sitting around all damn day waiting for Jim the Auto guy to do something besides answer the damn phone. Yeah, this was all Jim's fault, the boring dick.

Cara gave a restless sigh and watched as the painted sun taunted her with its big dumb grin, waiting for the door to open one more time. And then it did. She held her breath, Cara wouldn't admit that she did, but she did. She let it out at the sight of toned legs in a charcoal pencil skirt, covered up by an unbuttoned, white doctor's coat. Cara loved that coat. She wouldn't openly admit to that either, but she did. There was just something about white that looked so good with that creamy skin and all that long dark hair. She looked on as some of the that dark hair was tossed over a shoulder as the mystery doctor pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and locked up her office. Even with the most mundane of actions, the blonde P.I. was transfixed. Cara inwardly groaned at her own thoughts. It was infuriating how much she found herself drawn in to this stranger she'd never spoken too or even seen up close. It was sick. But here she was, mindlessly watching the hot pediatrician lock up her office, glance across the street, and lock eyes with her. Eye contact. That was a step in the right direction. Cara's direction, and that's the way the doctor was walking. The Hotness in white made her way across the street, up the sidewalk towards the café. Cara knew she had game, she could pull in any sweet number from across a crowded bar with a wolf's smile and wink, but this? Pulling in someone from about thirty yards out while sweating in the heat? This was an all time record for anyone, ever. Cara plastered on her trademark smirk as the doctor got near. It was shameless, it really was, but as much as she hated to admit it, Cara had been going through a bit of a dry spell. Flashing an unknown pediatrician a good smile was like taking a shot in the dark, but it was still a shot. Gay or straight, Cara could work her magic and she thought it had worked again when the lady in white came through the little patio gate of the café and approached her table. Cara, the fool, actually looked around to see if there was anyone else sitting in the patio that the doctor may be walk to. She got her answer when the second chair at her bistro table was pulled out with a long scrape and the doctor dropped herself into it.

Nervous was something Cara hadn't been since her first day of high school, but when the way-too-sexy-to-be-a-real-doctor doctor sat down Cara's walls went up, probably because of the absurdity of the situation. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that the doctor had stunning blue eyes that grabbed on and held Cara tight while seemingly giving her a look over, reading her like a book. Likes what she sees, Cara thought. Or maybe not. The brunette doctor was definitely looking her over but it wasn't a flirty 'hey I saw you from across the street and wanted to check you out' look. It was cold, and calculating, and it made the smirk on Cara face drop away instantly.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" The doctor let it out so nonchalant. It was unexpected and it had Cara's brain misfiring.

"Err, excuse me?" Cara could barely get out a better answer before the doctor was leaning in a little closer and dropped her voice to a near threatening level.

"You heard me, blondie, who the fuck do you think you are hanging around here? Are you some sort of pervert?" Okay, hot doctor was maybe a bit crazy. Her blue eyes intensified by her sudden onset anger, and she kept leaning in further, invading Cara's personal space and setting off all her warning signals.

So she'd been noticed, and here Cara thought she was good at blending in. Cara's mind began to assess everything that the brunette may have seen to draw her attention. Blonde sitting at a café, wearing faded, loose jeans, and a red tanktop, half empty glass of ice tea and a finished off crêpe. It's not like she sat around in a bright Hawiian shirt and Detroit Tigers cap every day. She was wearing an ankle holster maybe that was it. Cara snuck a look down her left leg. No, nothing noticeable there, she was usually pretty careful about that. Plus she made sure not to sit in the same spot every day. So what was it?

"Okay, listen," Cara put her hand up, more to stop the forward progress of the contentious pediatrician than to make a showing of submission. "I have no clue what you're talking about, which leads me to think you definitely have the wrong idea. Whatever you're thinking, I guarantee it's the wrong thing." Yeah, that didn't make the situation better. Cara watched as the brunette's brows crushed together in anger. This was probably someone who didn't handled being told no, or being told she was wrong very well. "Is that it? Because I'm pretty sure I've seen you hanging around this area for the last week, checking out my office. What, are you creeping on the little kids, or stalking one of the moms? Or are you out here checking out the neighborhood? The auto shop got broken into not that long ago. You know anything about that?"

Cara just scoffed. Who did this chick think she was? A cop? Who was in the investigator here? Cara's feelings of confused lust were quickly begin replaced by what she thought was more like how she should really feel. The doctor was presuming, and Cara had a short temper which was slowly burning its fuse.

"I wouldn't know a damn thing, unless you care to divulge something?" Cara was now aiming to push buttons. If the doctor was going to call her a pervert and accuse her of casing the neighborhood, then the game was on.

A range of pissed off looking expressions passed over the doctor's pretty face.

"You shouldn't scowl, Doctor, you're getting a little wrinkle above your lip." Cara pointed out what was more than likely a scar, but she couldn't help herself.

"You know what I'm going to call the cops. I should have called two days ago."

"Why? Because I tried to give you a beauty tip?"

The doctor reached into the pocket of her white coat and pulled out her iPhone, only to put it down on the table when the persistent waitress interrupted.

"Hey, Doctor Kahlan. Can I get you anything?" The smirk returned to Cara's face when Doctor Kahlan looked fractionally worried that the waitress used her name, like she was some sort of spy who had her cover blown, and it took her a second to respond.

"No, Sherri, I'm fine," Kahlan said, and Cara took it as an opportunity to dig at her.

"Are you sure, Kahlan," Cara made sure to emphasize her name, "it's my treat. It would be rude of me not offer."

Kahlan turned her pointed glance back to Cara, "No, I'm fine, and I think you've been rude enough," was said through a gritted smile.

Sherri the waitress watched the scene confusedly then asked Cara if she wanted anything more.

"No, if Doctor Kahlan doesn't want anything I'll just take the check." Waitress Sherri nodded okay and wandered back to where ever it was she usually hid to retrieve Cara's leaned back in her chair and blocked the sun from her eyes as she stared down Kahlan, making a simple assessment. Her body was in good shape – great if Cara was being honest – so she probably kept up with her exercise and a healthy diet, she as a doctor after all. Most likely yoga or some other rich person, yuppie bull crap fad, she could probably afford it. She was also taller than she looked across the street, maybe an inch or so taller than Cara was. She was hotter too, and that pissed off look she was giving up was practically smoldering.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Cara let her eyes drop down to the vast exposure of perfect skin peaking through the white doctor's coat.

"Stop looking at me like that. You're sick. It's like you're trying to rip my clothes off with your eyes." Cara got caught. "I don't know what your game is, but seriously, I'm going to call the fucking cops if you don't tell me what the hell it is you're doing around here."

Kahlan picked up her iPhone and swiped the unlock, Cara just rolled her eyes at her annoying persistence to make an attempted citizen's arrest. She flipped her wrist back up and checked her watch, it was ten after. Shit. Ten after. Cara looked over the Jim's Auto, he was usually pretty punctual and sure enough Jim was waving goodnight to Eddy who was lowering the shop doors, and heading over to his car.

"Fuck," Cara mumbled under her breath. "You know, whatever lady, call the cops. We'll see how far you get. Until then I'm out." Cara shoved her seat back and stood up to pull her wallet. She hadn't gotten the check, nor had she even gotten anything to take with her which meant she'd be sitting in her car hungry until about midnight. This was entirely the hot doctor's fault. Cara dropped a twenty on the table, it was way more than what she expected the bill plus tip would be but whatever, she didn't have time for her irritating waitress to figure out change. If she lost Jim and he finally decided to do something of interest she'd be screwed. She ignored the angered face of Kahlan, she had to forget about her too. A paying job came before chasing tail or teasing. Hoping over the low iron fence that separated the café patio from the sidewalk Cara hustled to the parking lot behind the building.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Kahlan jumped up from the table, nearly dropping her phone in her dash to chase after the mystery blonde. She was wearing the absolute wrong clothes to be jumping over even the lowest fence, so Kahlan was forced to go around back out the gate – which admittedly wasn't that much of a hassle, but when you were trying to keep someone from leaving every second counted.

Cara moved quickly. She expected to have to dodge a little traffic to catch up with Jim on his drive to whatever mundane place he was going to tonight, probably to pick up dinner. If only that Kahlan hadn't gotten into her business or her head. Damn that doctor was hot and god damn irritating. Cara slowed up her pace rounding the corner, half distracted by the image of a pair of nice legs in a pencil skirt. It happened in a burning instant, the small moment when Cara's mind wasn't in the present. The doctor had caught up to her and in an attempt to stop Cara from leaving reached out trying to grab a hold of her shirt collar but her aim was high. Cara felt strong fingers brush against the base of her neck and apply pressure. Cara's breath caught and she fired off like a loaded pistol. In a flash Cara had spun around and taken a hard hold of the doctor's wrist, rotating the absconded with arm upward and back into a pronating lock. Cara's muscles took over from memory, and her memory told her that this was effective and painful and would subdue her attacker. She heard Kahlan let out a surprised and painful yelp at the first twist, and a keening whine, and the doctor's blue eyes widened as she pushed her forward towards the car. With a dull thud the doctor hit chest down onto the sun heated metal of the hood, she tried to struggle but with little success.

"Jesus, you really should be careful of who you try to fuck with, lady, you never know when you'll find someone who doesn't like getting pushed around." The whole action hadn't just caught Kahlan off guard but Cara as well, admittedly. So she alleviated some of the pain as she eased off the doctor's arm bent behind her back, but she didn't let go. She was trained not to. It was so effortless for Cara, her muscles not losing their memory of the action they had performed near to daily.

"Now listen," Cara took her empty hand a reached into her back pocket for her wallet. "I'm not going to hurt you more than I already have, but I'm not going to let you go either because you need to know something." Popping her wallet open, Cara flipped to the small square of official paper she kept on her at all times that read Bureau of Security and Investigative Services, and held it for the doctor to see. "That is my private investigator's license. I am a private investigator, and you are interfering with my work."

The doctor had stopped struggling once the license was dangled in her face, Cara could tell she was taking it all in. Cara, too, was taking it all in. It hadn't escaped her attention that the sexy doctor was sprawled out under her and across the hood of her car. And she may or may not have caught the scent of lavender and Big Red chewing gum. An oddly hot combination. That didn't change anything though, she was still a pain in the ass so far.

"Now, Doctor, are you going to stop being such a nosy bitch and let me continue with my work? Because you're making me late, and if I missed something big, I'm going to have to come back here, and you and I? We're going to have some harsh words. Do you understand?" Cara felt the doctor huff.

"Yeah," Cara let go at the sound of sincerity in the doctor's voice, even if it was hesitant and bitchy. "But I still don't entirely trust you, Cara Mason." It was the doctor's turn to stretch out a given name, it made her feel like she had a little control, she did so while she rubbed the strain out of her arm from where Cara had it twisted back. "That's fine by me, you don't have to, you didn't hire me."

Cara was given a hard stare. Damn those eyes were blue.

"Who did hire you?" The doctor must not even be paying attention to her own words, because Cara thought that was the dumbest question she'd ever been asked… well, maybe like the third or fourth dumbest.

"Seriously? Not only are you interfering, but now you're trying to pry information out of me. Just this," Cara motioned between the two of their bodies, "is enough to now label you as a witness, and if I really did miss something in my investigation, I will name you as an interferer and as a possible accomplice. And I know that's not the case, but you've pissed me off and I'll do it just out of spite."

"And you called me a bitch." At that Cara rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, if you're lucky I'll be able to wrap this case up and I'll be out of your hair and your neighborhood for the rest of both our lives. Now, do you mind?" Cara motioned for the doctor to move away from her car, which the doctor complied with slowly, giving Cara the eye the whole time.

Cara plopped down in the driver's seat and turned over the engine when a tapping came from the passenger window. The damn crazy, hot doctor again. Cara hesitated before lowering the glass.

Cara just stared incredulously. "You just couldn't leave without the last word could you? Seriously, I will name you in my report, so this better be worth it."

The doctor got a tight pinched look on her face and she leaned into the window. "I just wanted to say that I'll be looking you up, Cara Mason, and if I don't find anything about you being a private investigator, or I find something I don't like, I will call the cops. Then I'll press assault charges, which I should do anyway." Cara's eye flicked down to the wrist of the doctor, the one she had a hold on just moments ago. She could see red finger marks pressed into that prefect white skin.

She had been rough, she knew it, but her rage had broken through. She had problems with that. Cara looked again at the marks that will darken and become bruises. She had hurt someone, again. That guilt feeling started to rise in her stomach, and her face was getting warm. She tried to swallow it down but it was too thick. Cara reached over a slapped at the A/C button and the air came out warm and stale. Her jaw clenched and she looked at the doctor again. Why was she still standing there? Did she want an apology? She wasn't going to get one, maybe, Cara didn't know. The doctor confronted her first, she had it coming. Why did she even care?

"I-," the words stuck in Cara's throat. Fucking guilt, and fucking pride. "I have to go."The brunette doctor looked startled and couldn't back away from the car fast enough as Cara rolled up the window and put the car in gear. Cara may have pulled the car out of the parking lot a little too quickly, chirping the tires as she took a quick left. She told herself that she had to catch up to Jim, because what if he finally did something note worthy, besides just running through Jack In the Box for some curly fries?

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**I don't think I'll make promises on when the next update will be. Thanks for being awesome and reviewing, I like reviews they make me feel special. **

**and thanks to my lady for editing.  
**


	4. A note from the author

Hi everyone. I apologize to anyone and everyone who is awaiting the next chapter. I'm having a bitch of a time getting though it, like I seriously have been working on it for two months and I don't like it. So instead of churning out and posting a chapter that is lame crap, I'm going to take the time to continue in my efforts to make it better because I care about what I write and what I want you all to read.

I'm not giving up on this fic, it's not being abandoned or shelved, I just get bad writer's block and am picky. I'll remove this note and replace it with the chapter when it's ready.

Always, thank you for being patient and understanding :)  
-K


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